


With A Little Help From My Friends

by neversaydie



Series: cock it and pull it [21]
Category: King Falls AM (Podcast)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Microwaves, Post-Canon, ben is a disaster, discussion of having kids, sammy is dad friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 23:24:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neversaydie/pseuds/neversaydie
Summary: "What did he set on fire this time?""Microwave," Sammy leans over the back of the couch to give him a quick kiss on his way out, habitually. It was one of the little things he missed most while Jack was gone, though he'll never admit that out loud. "This might take a while, don't wait up.""Y'know, it amazes me that you won't even entertain a conversation about kids when you already parent so much," Jack tries, not very hard, to sound casual about the comment as Sammy walks away. It stops him in his tracks, as predicted."I didn't say I'd never-" Sammy catches himself, narrowing his eyes at Jack's sly little smirk. "Don't trick me into this now, I have a man-child to rescue."[in which Ben is banned from using the microwave for a reason, Sammy dadfriends hard, and Jack finds himself too funny.]





	With A Little Help From My Friends

They're enjoying a relaxing afternoon at home - sprawled out on the couch and both awake, for once, because Sammy's been on vacation for the last three days and has actually established a semi-normal sleeping pattern for a change - when Sammy's cell starts blaring NSYNC from the coffee table.

He shoots a disapproving look at Jack, who maintains the illusion that he's not the one fucking with his boyfriend's ringtone (spoiler: he absolutely is), and reluctantly picks up the call.

Ben sounds… troubled.

"Okay, don't tell Emily, but-"

"We've _already_ established that you can't start conversations like that," Sammy heaves himself off the couch, knocking Jack's feet to the floor in the process, and wanders across the room because he can't sit still on the phone.

Years of talking on the radio haven't trained him out of the habit, which the Wrights never failed to tease him about. Fail, he corrects himself reflexively, because he still can't quite get over the fact he can think about Jack in the present tense now.

"I- Sammy, shush. I need your help."

"Did you just shush me?" He sighs heavily, making sure Ben can hear how put upon he is, and lets him hang for a couple of seconds before he inevitably gives in. "Fine, what d'you need?"

"Uh, I kinda set the microwave on fire-"

"Why are you calling me?! Call the fire department!"

"It's out, I think," there's a suspicious pop behind Ben which suggests it's very much _not_ out. "I just, uh, I dunno how to _conceal_ the fact-"

"Why do you need to hide-"

"I might be banned from the microwave. Maybe. Over a, uh, similar popcorn-related mishap."

More concerning background noises, and something that sounds like Ben flapping a dishtowel. Sammy is going to strangle him… if Emily doesn't get there first.

"Again, why are you calling _me_ about this?"

"Because you're the adult in this friendship Sammy, c'mon! I've never had to deal with fricking scorch marks before."

"And what makes you think _I_ have?"

"Jack told me about your first night in LA, dude. Which I _generously_ haven't mentioned on the show, so..."

Sammy needs better friends.

"...Fine. I'm coming over."

"Thank you, dude. Seriously, I owe you. Can you maybe bring, uh… paint? Or-" Sammy hangs up before he's subjected to any more of Ben's nonsense, since it sounds like they're gearing up for a fun afternoon of redecorating Emily's kitchen.

"What did he destroy this time?" Jack had been absorbed in a rugby game, but watching his boyfriend flail in exasperation is far more entertaining than the mid-season league match on TV.

"Microwave. Also, did you _have_ to give him leverage with the candle story? The guy has enough dirt on me as it is," Sammy leans over the back of the couch to give him a quick kiss on his way out, habitually. It was one of the little things he missed most while Jack was gone, though he'll never admit that out loud. "This might take a while, don't wait up."

"Y'know, it amazes me that you won't even _entertain_ a conversation about kids when you already parent so much," Jack tries, not very hard, to sound casual about the comment as Sammy walks away. It stops him in his tracks, as predicted.

"I didn't say I'd never-" Sammy catches himself, narrowing his eyes at Jack's sly little smirk. They're not considering kids, not when things are still up in the air with Jack's seizures and the whole _four years in a supernatural void_ thing, but he likes to spring the question on Sammy every so often just to see him sweat. "Don't trick me into this now, I have a man-child to rescue."

"I'm just saying," Jack shrugs, having thought about this more than he'll let on… for now, anyway. "You'd be a good dad one day."

"Please," Sammy waves him off, searching for his car keys which, for some reason, never make it into their designated bowl. "I can barely take care of myself."

"He lied, in a dad-like fashion."

"I- Don't narrate me!" Sammy scowls as Jack cracks up, finding himself far too amusing in a way which definitely isn't as cute as it seems. He's surrounded by people who laugh at their own bad jokes, and he wishes he didn't find it as endearing as he does. "I'm going to save our son from himself, goodbye."

"He never visits anymore, he never calls. He'll put us in a home one day, I know it," Jack does his best imitation of a grandfather - which isn't a very good one - and Sammy rolls his eyes all the way to the car.

 

When Sammy returns several hours later - flecked with pink paint, smelling of burnt popcorn, and slightly singed around the edges - Jack is still dozing on the couch. He does his best not to laugh at the sweaty, dishevelled state of his boyfriend, because he's nice like that (and also because Sammy's not generally a home improvement guy and, honestly, it's kind of hot).

"I _really_ don't think we're ready for kids, I like sitting down too much," Sammy groans, collapsing on the couch - and the guy lying on it - with an exaggerated sigh. Jack makes a ridiculously loud _oof_ at how heavy he is, which Sammy completely ignores in favour of spreading himself over him like a too-warm human blanket. "That was exhausting. God, imagine if he was even smaller... he tried to lick paint off his thumb as it is."

"Yeah, I think you've got enough dad stuff on your plate right now," Jack shuffles them around so he can get his arms around Sammy's waist… and maybe grab a handful of ass while he's down there. It seems only polite. "We can have fun practising though, right?"

"Practising what? Stopping a supposedly grown man from ingesting toxic chemicals?" Sammy, as always, is as adorable as he is oblivious. Jack restrains himself from pointing that out because, again, he is a modern day saint.

"I mean practising, y'know, _making babies_ ," he gives Sammy's ass a pointed squeeze, and his big stupid boyfriend flushes pink when the penny drops.

"I don't think you know how babies-" Jack kisses him to shut him up, because the last thing he needs right now is a biology lesson.

There's a dirty joke in there somewhere, but Jack ignores it in favour of getting up close and personal with Sammy's _biology_ … in a manner of speaking.


End file.
